Imagine going into a hospital for a circumcision at the age of 60-something like Phillip Seaton did back in 2007. Imagine, then, how Seaton must have felt when he awoke to find... wait for it... wait for it... his penis had been amputated.
What do you do when your husband disappears from your bed one night, leaves you with $6 million in debt, and turns out to be a total fraud? If you're Michelle Kramer, you pick yourself up, dust yourself off and get a Ph.D. in psychology.
In my mind, the solemnity of major surgery reminds us that our mortal self is not all there is. Once we recognize this -- truly cashing in the meaning, not unlike those near-death experiences -- our lives change.
Cosmetic surgery is no longer just about fitting into your adopted culture, it's about fitting into your ethnic group. Sometimes I forget I got plastic surgery. I don't feel like someone who would do it.
The words "fear" and "surgery" are inextricably connected. Not only that, but hospital stays in general are full of unfamiliar experiences that can easily jeopardize even the strongest sense of emotional well-being.
Each time I get sick I get a new sermon. So when the rhetorical well starts to run dry, God zaps me with a new ailment, as a sort of pedagogic prop. No doubt, if I stopped giving sermons, I'd be healthy forever.